Bleed Like Me
by Hemogasms
Summary: Santana's parents are getting a divorce. She deals in the only way she can. Warning for self-harm and language is for a reason. Tiny hint of Brittana. Just a dark little oneshot that refused to leave me alone.


**AN: Santana just helped me get some stuff down. **

**Mentions self-harm, so big trigger warning. Also warning for language and mentions of abuse. I don't think enjoy is the right word... but hope this is at least interesting.**

**I don't own Santana, I just borrowed her for a very depressing hour or so.**

She was shaking now, her whole body convulsing violently, it almost shook the breath right out of her. She just needed to breathe, but there, frozen in that moment she just couldn't.

Santana had never felt so alone, so painfully fucking alone, as she did in that moment.

As she tried to breathe she could feel the pain rising in her chest, ripping at her insides, trying to force its way to the surface. She pushed it down hard. She is Santana fucking Lopez, and she doesn't cry.

Yet before she can stop herself she is crying. Angry, hot tears are streaming down her face. Breathless sobs are wracking her whole body.

This is not her life. These things don't happen to her.

This is not her family, her mami and papi had been together since they were 14, and even though she'd known for years that things were bad this was never supposed to be real.

When papi started sleeping in her bed and she had to sleep in the guest room, she'd simply told herself it was nothing and carried on.

That's who Santana is. It's what she does, she doesn't cry, she doesn't react, she simply carries on.

It was all too much now. An old ache resurfaced from somewhere deep inside. It was an old habit she thought was long broken, but yet here it was again, calling her back.

She knew she still had a few old razor blades hidden in her vanity. She could feel the cold shiny metal calling to her, coercing her, and pulling her like gravity.

She wanted to feel the heat, the pain, the release, when the blade broke her skin. She wanted to feel anything but what she felt right now.

Her papi was her world. He had been there for her when no one else was, he understood her totally, and accepted her fully. Her mami was stubborn, as Santana herself could be. She was also controlling and could be cold and manipulative.

When her papi had sat her down and told her they were getting a divorce, Santana had smiled sweetly, like she always did whenever her papi was around.

She had smiled through the pain tearing up her chest, and spent the hour comforting her father, telling him he wasn't too old to find someone who truly loved him, and that she wanted him to be happy, and she had known for years the life they were living was a lie.

Truth be told it was a lie. Santana's mother had been psychologically abusive for as long as she could remember.

When Santana was 11 years old she had found a way to deal with that pain...in another form of pain. It had started as harmless little crescent moon nail marks, first in her palms, then on the inside of her wrists.

Before long nails became scissors, and scissors became razor blades. The blades were the best. They cut so deep with just a single slice, and the burn Santana felt afterwards always seemed to bring her back.

The pain in her wrists, her hips, all across her stomach, always pulled her back from the edge. It pulled away from the darkness. It let her release the anger, the pain, the utter hopelessness she was feeling and let her carry on.

She hungered for that pain now. It was all she wanted, all she needed, well except her...

Santana quickly pushed that thought away. She could not think of Brittany, not now. Britt wasn't here to save her; Santana was literally in this all by herself.

She silently cursed her girlfriend, after all the time they'd spent together, she just had to chose now to suddenly decide they needed space.

Brittany needed space. Santana just needed to be held, she needed someone to tell her she would survive this. She needed Brittany.

Pushing thoughts of the blonde away Santana felt a fresh wave of sobs rise in her throat.

She was losing it now, she literally had no control.

Divorce wasn't pleasant, she knew that. Santana had seen many of her friends parents go through it, and although she would never admit it, she always pitied their families.

This wasn't supposed to happen to her.

She is Santana Lopez, she is the girl who has everything, the brand new car, all the money she could want.

From the outside looking in Santana had the perfect family...the perfect life.

Her parents, despite being on the brink of separation for years, had always been very careful to construct a perfect image for the rest of the world...a lie.

Santana knew this was going to happen. She had always known, she just never really expected that the time would come.

Now it was here, and she was lying across her sofa, frozen. She couldn't move, she could barely speak.

Her world was falling apart and she was all alone. She had sent Quinn a casual text, nothing too heavy, because after all she had a reputation to uphold. She hadn't received a reply.

She'd also text Brittany, a simple 'Hey, how was your day?' ... Again nothing.

Now it was just her, she was all alone, sleeping on her sofa because her papi was sleeping in her bed so as to be away from her mother.

She looked around her beautiful home. The place where she had so many memories. Not many of them were happy, but they were memories all the same.

Santana, though she never would admit it, was a creature of habit. She enjoyed all things familiar and she ran scared from any kind of change. And this... Well this was the biggest change she had ever faced in her life.

She didn't want to live a lie anymore. She didn't want to hear her papi wake up and pace around the kitchen at 2am every morning, discontented with his life, where he was mostly unacknowledged and unappreciated.

She didn't want to see her idol, and if she was honest, her hero, held down in a marriage that brought him nothing but pain.

Like every other human being her papi deserved to be loved, and she desperately, almost painfully, wanted that for him.

She also kind of liked the thought of being away from her mother. The woman had been a constant over bearing presence in Santana's life. Always pushing her, pulling her, breaking her from the inside out.

Santana's mother had given her everything... Anything she had ever wanted Santana had gotten. The best clothes, shoes...anything.

Santana would be the first to admit she was spoiled...in a very materialistic sense of the word.

But emotionally... Emotionally, Santana had grown up without a mother. When she realised she was gay she had hidden a part of herself for years, too scared, and so alone, with no one to talk to.

When she had her first breakup, there was no one there to hold her while she sobbed into her pillow.

Santana had grown up without any of that, she'd learned to be hard, and rely on herself, because for a long time, that was all that she had.

Eventually things had spiralled out of control. Her mother's constant taunting had become too much, and Santana had lost it, and sliced her arm open worse than ever before.

It had bled for almost a whole day before she slunk into the guidance counsellor's office and said she needed help.

A few hours later after having her skin glued in the accident and emergency, Santana's father had come to pick her up.

His eyes were sad, and it almost broke Santana's heart to see the pain in his eyes.

He had known tings were bad, he had known that she was being bullied in her own home, but somehow he had just become disconnected.

Although he always stuck up for her when he could, he worked very long hours, and wasn't always there to save her from the vicious verbal attacks that greeted her from school every night.

Seeing her papi's eyes so full of horror, fear, shame, Santana actually knew what it meant to feel your heart break.

Her father was a good man, the best man, the only man she would ever love. He really was her hero.

From then on her papi was around more, he protected her from her mother, who seemed to improve a little, and they all went back to playing their little pretend game.

Sometimes her parents would fight, and Santana would be told they were separating. Two days later things would be fine and the separation would be forgotten.

She knew this time was different. The things her father had said, the sad look in her mother's eyes.

Everything around her screamed that it was over.

Part of Santana was glad, part of her was elated, almost like a bird that had been freed from its cage.

She wanted desperately for her papi to be happy.

Another part of her, still felt like the little girl hiding under her bed, while she listened to her parents scream and swear at each other, and heard the furniture being broken, every Saturday night.

Right now, more than anything, she was angry, she was scared, and she was just so so alone.

Santana Fucking Lopez didn't need a lot of things. She prided herself on being the time to be able to pick up and move on, to rely on no one, and to trust nothing.

But right now, Santana needed Brittany. She needed to hear someone say they understood, she needed someone to tell her she would survive this.

She just needed to not feel alone.

It was all too much. She tried Brittany one last time, 'You around?' She kept the text simple, never one to show weakness.

A few minutes later there was no reply, and Santana's mind was set.

Her blood pounded in her veins and she headed to the bathroom, taking care to move quietly over the carpeted floor, measuring every breath so as not to wake her sleeping family.

She immediately spotted her target. One of her papi's disposable razor heads. She felt an all too familiar heat begin to burn in her chest, everything tingled in anticipation and she shook harder.

She grabbed her prize and quietly retreated to her downstairs bathroom, locking the door behind her and sitting down in the toilet.

She took a deep breath and tried to regain some control of her muscles which seemed to be taking on the consistency of jello more and more each minute.

She expertly gave the razor head a quick sharp whack again the porcelain of the wash basin.

It broke open with a satisfying crack, and before long she was extracting a single blade from the little plastic case, just the way she had many times before.

She flushed the remains of the shaving equipment, and stared down at her treasure. It was brand new, unused, cold and sharp. In that moment it was not something she wanted, part of her wanted to throw it down the toilet too and run far far away screaming.

For another part of her it was everything she wanted. It was all she needed. It was her key, her safe place, her analgesic. She needed to not feel alone anymore, she needed her control back, she needed the pain to stop.

Without allowing herself anymore time to think Santana quickly rolled up the leg of her shorts, and selected a patch of skin between the old and faded scars that already marred her there.

Seconds later it was over. She sucked in a breath sharply as her fingers were quickly coated in a silky red liquid. The pain seared up and made her muscles suddenly tense.

The shaking had stopped.

She closed her eyes and let her head loll back. In that moment she was okay.

In that moment, she was complete, and she was safe. She wasn't the girl about to have her family ripped in two, She simple was, she was simply being, existing, breathing.

She enjoyed the heat of the pain against the cool trickle of liquid sliding down her thighs and pooling on the floor.

She enjoyed it until the little trails began to cool, and become sticky and clotted on her skin.

Sometimes, everyone, even Santana fucking Lopez, just need to not be alone.

Sometimes, when Brittany was gone, and Quinn was busy, Santana just needed to bleed.


End file.
